THE INTRUDER
As I sat, to sift my dreaming
To the meet and needed word,
With insistence to be heard.
Half alluring and half shy;
Escapade was in her eye.
(In an anger then I cried)—
Tempting creature, stay outside!
I am now composing verse—
Wanton, vanish—fly—disperse!
What have I to do with thee?"
"I am Poetry," said she.